Que Sera
by fuckyeahlucifersupernatural
Summary: It is Sam that wants to wear Nick to prom and he intends on looking his best.


**Summary: **It is Sam that wants to wear Nick to prom and he intends on looking his best.

_Prompt: Lucifer is the hunter. Sam is the angel who wants to be wear him to prom_.

**A/N:** Altered the prompt so it is Nick, not Lucifer.

**Que Sera  
**_Supernatural_  
**Written by**: fuckyeahlucifersupernatural

"_The future's not ours. I believe in the future.  
__I don't believe in miracles...  
__People seem to be frightened, even terrified  
__I want everybody to understand this: I don't understand...  
__What's going to be our future?  
__It's your responsibility to do something about it  
__Well, I have the key in my hands, all I have to find is the lock  
__Now listen to me, all of you!  
__Que sera, sera! Whatever will be. Oh, you're divine!"_

Que Sera by Wax Tailor

* * *

Nick sat on the pew in the front, hearing the pastor drone on, unable to see much through the cloud of tears. Family he hardly spoke to, intimate friends, neighbors, colleagues, and even the babysitters filled the church on an unbearably cold Sunday. Weather was miserable, drizzling in the morning before going into a heavy downpour, and Nick found it fitting for this miserable event he will never heal from.

Two urns sat quietly in the front of the church, and it was cheaper to cremate. Nick didn't have the funds to afford two caskets, markers for their graves, burial services costs and the funeral, already in debt just from the service alone but Sarah and his daughter deserved it. They deserved the best and the idea of a child-sized casket made him nauseas, fighting the urge to heave in front of the congregation.

Nick rubbed at his eyes, dull pain shooting through where the attacker hit him with the backend of a lamp. It was a miracle that he survived, the doctors informed him, suffering from a broken rib, broken arm, broken nose, deep tissue bruising on his chest, knife wound to his abdomen and a black eye. The police informed him poorly that his wife and child were dead when he awoke in the hospital, drugs pumped into his system to keep the pain at bay. They scuffed their feet, asked for description of the attacker, of his wife and child, and walked off. Nick found out through a nurse that they passed away after his second day in the hospital, found dead when the paramedics arrived after a phone call from a neighbor.

Nick screamed and thrashed in distress, feeling stitches rip before a nurse was injecting something into his IV. Darkness came soon after.

Getting to his feet, he licked his split lip as the congregation moved, aware vaguely that it was over. Sarah's mother took his hand and led him out of the church, and Nick stood numbly outside to hear a sea of condolences. Nick nodded mutely and shook hands with his left hand, right arm in a sling. With each handshake, he never saw his friends again. They shied away from him. Family kept minimal contact as they went back home to the East Coast. Even at work everyone kept to themselves. Nick got the vague notion that they were ashamed and terrified of talking about what happened, something Nick did want to talk about. He wanted to talk about it because he needed to.

Pride kept him away from counselors and support groups because he didn't want to share the story with them. He wanted to share it with his friends. His sister. His mother-in-law. Someone he was close to but his social network abandoned him, leaving him alone and developing an addiction to alcohol. One or two beers a week turned into four a day on the weekdays and six on the weekends.

It was two weeks after the death of his family and his house being burglarized did they catch the two perpetrators. Cost of lawyers and going to court was an emotional drain on him, walking out of the building feeling a heavy weight shoved down on him. Maybe it was meant to be that there was a bar five blocks down from where he lived. It was a homey bar and Nick stopped worrying about walking home drunk. If he got mugged, than so be it. If he died from it, so be it. If anything, Nick had a death wish. When he wasn't thinking of his daughter and his wife, he was fantasizing about the ways he could kill himself. He could step into traffic. Jump off a bridge. Overdose. Drive his car off the street and into a ditch. Buy a gun and hold it against his head.

The judicial process was making the fantasies grow more creative, stressed to the point he collapsed in court.

Nick lost his faith. Sarah was the religious one out of the bunch, always going out of her way to practice what was preached in a way that always made Nick swell with pride. The children in her fourth grade class weren't all blessed with the ability to do fun things like go swimming to visiting the zoo. So she would pull money out of her own pocket to take these kids to the zoo, to take them swimming, and provide to them opportunities their families and school couldn't afford. Nick would find himself roped into helping cutting out and making posters to decorate the room, tired of seeing Sarah stay up all night passionately slaving away to make each lesson enriching and engaging. She had a heart of gold and she was a wonderful mother, already gushing about how their daughter was going to be a change maker. She was going to make history.

It just did not make any sense how someone who put so much into her family and community could be taken away from him. How his young daughter - who will never have the luxury of going to middle school, play soccer, graduate high school, go to college and have a family of her own - could be taken away from him. How it could be taken away from her. What kind of God would do that? What kind of twisted son of a bitch would turn his nose up and let good people die?

Nick stopped praying for God to let him trade places as time went by. To let his family be back and instead take him. If he has to stay in Hell and suffer just so they can live, than so be it. It would be done. He wouldn't complain. He wouldn't fight back or regret.

The widowed blond slunk back to the bar after a day of work, giving a polite smile to the bartender before she set before him a cold beer. That had to be a sign that you visit a bar too often. Nick took his seat at the bar, gave his thanks before eyes were glued to the television and his mouth was glued to the rim of his beer bottle.

Duke's Blue Devils were playing against the Arizona State Sundevils, and Nick looked at the score with a pitiful expression.

"So they change the logo into what now looks more like a gang symbol and they still suck at basketball," a voice chortled in amusement to his right, Nick snorting in agreement and giving a nod.

"Yeah. They used to be decent a few years back, especially with the football but now the only thing Arizona State is excelling in sports is their softball team. I don't watch softball." Nick remarked and whoever was beside him laughed warmly, causing the blond to turn his head to see who his new bar seat neighbor was. Nick looked briefly surprised to see a towering male sitting at the bar, body broad and if his arms were anything like the rest of his frame, he was fit. Healthy head of brown hair was on his head, pushed out of the way of his eyes so much it became parted right down the middle. A handsome face with eyes of a hazel eyes that were more of a pale green at the moment, hinting of brown rimmed around the iris, stared back at him.

Nick has never seen him around and he would have noticed someone like this.

"No one watches softball unless you are at some kid's game or whatnot," the younger male proclaimed with a nod, turning his frame to face Nick. "Oh. I'm being rude. I'm Sam," he extended his hand out to Nick and Nick found himself taking it, giving a firm shake.

"Nick. Nice to meet you, Sam. You new around here? Never seen you before." Sam's hand was cool to the touch but Nick hardly paid any mind to it, instead drawing his own hand back to watch the brunette nod his head.

Sam adjusted the simple t-shirt he was wearing before moving the hand to his own beer. "Work made me move here. Not too bad. So far everyone has been treating me well, but I came from around the Bay Area. Meaning I'm not so sure I'm prepared for the humid summers to come over here," Sam admitted with a boyishly good smile that made Nick simply want to keep on talking to him. So he did all through the night until the bartender was shooing them away when it became closing time, both laughing in good humor as they went their separate ways.

First time Nick walked home relatively sober after the death of his family in good spirits, and a phone number written on the back of a grocery store receipt. Sam promised him that if ever needed company at the bar for a drink, just give him a ring. Nick would have just shied away from it all but he could really go for some company and a friend.

Nick begins to plug the number into his phone during his walk home.

- _May 9th _

Nick spends the ride back to his place in Sam's 1965 cherry red Mustang, which he claimed wasn't his but that he was taking care of it until his friend comes back into the states. The blond can't help but be thoroughly impressed with the car that feels alive even when the key is out of the ignition. He can feel her give a soft rumbling purr that's steady. He swears he can and when he mentions it, it always seemed to stop. Sam would arch a brow and laugh heartily.

Stepping out of the Mustang, grabbing their spoils from the grocery store, both males walked into his house. Nick made sure to clean the place a day ahead because the house has been collecting dust. Nick made sure to keep the door to the nursery firmly closed, still unable to move the crib and give away the toys because it makes him ache in a way he swears it'll make him break into pieces.

Sam is a reassurance behind him as he opens the door, smiling when Sam compliments the place as he lugs over the beer they got from the store. It's game night and it was Nick who suggested instead going to his place. Nick surprised himself. He hasn't invited anyone to his home after the tragedy, just not in the mood to entertain but Sam was a fresh and new face. He didn't pity or judge him, instead smiled in a brilliant way that made him feel normal.

"You sure you know how to make guacamole?"

Sam shoots an indignant, "Yes!"

"I can always google it for you."

"You know, your lack of faith in my skills is hurting my feelings," Sam pouted, giving this kicked puppy look that should not be able to manipulate Nick so. _At least I'm aware of it_, Nick pointed out. Whenever Nick disagreed with Sam, such as his painfully healthy diet, the younger male would shoot him a look that made him groan in defeat. "Now hand me that knife over there, I'm going to show you how it's done."

In the end it turned out pretty good. A bit too lumpy but it turned out delicious. The two lounged on the couch, more interested in talking about the weather to complaining about NBC canceling decent shows. From the getting up to put some of the trash away to grabbing a new beer, the two ended up sitting beside each other on the couch.

It was midnight and the TV was running some reruns of a show Nick couldn't recognize, and Nick insisted Sam at least spend the night so he's not driving. Sam protests about being an inconvenience but eventually agrees.

Sam spends the night on the couch, all long limbs and muscles, and Nick never felt safer. He padded off to the bedroom and fell asleep instantaneously. When he's woken up to the smell of bacon and coffee brewing, Nick spends a good ten minutes fighting back tears because all he could think of was Sarah. Sarah did this. He wanted - needed this so badly.

Nick considers having Sam stay over at his place more often if it meant this.

_- June 20th_

The childless father found himself spending most of his days with Sam after work, enjoying his company because it was the only company he seemed to be able to get. Neighbors kept quiet and when he finally did cave in and invite them over for a barbecue, they came late and left early. Sam remained the entire time and later, keeping the ugly hole of abandonment from growing. As his social support system left him, too uncomfortable and nervous to be by someone who lost their family from a violent attack, Sam grew closer to him.

It's been six months since the death of his wife and child, and he figured it was time to give away Sarah's clothes along with all the baby items. That's where Nick was at, standing in the closet and staring at Sarah's side of the closet. All of her clothes neatly hung and folded in beautiful pastel colors that went to bright vibrant hues. Blacks and whites were in the far corner, as if they were only there because they had to be. Blue eyes stared at them before kicking an empty box further into the closet and began to pick the folded clothes and place them inside.

Everything felt heavy. As if rocks were on each pile, and mouth was twitching in a motion it wanted to turn downward. Nick kept himself thin-lipped and serious, looking at this as plainly as he could. These clothes were going to Goodwill. The end. They were just clothes. But when he touched the hanging blouses and could smell her perfume off of it, eyes began to swim with tears. Fingers caressed the smooth fabric, burying his nose into it, trying to memorize that scent forever but underneath the perfume was the greater scent of dust.

Nick picked at the shirts as if they could burn him, tossing them into the box, hangers still hanging. Eyes remained downcast, unwilling to look at them, groping blindly for them all. Finished with the first box, he closed it up and brought in the next box for the rest.

It was taking hours to do something that should take him an hour, and Nick had to take breaks. He had to take a step back and go into the back yard, heaving for fresh air and wiping his red eyes with the back of his hands. This wasn't easy. He thought it would be but each piece of clothing had a memory. The black dress she wore for the school's dance she was chaperoning and how badly he just wanted her to stay home with him the minute he watched her show off her outfit. The jean shorts she wore during the summer time. List went on and he was still stalling around on cleaning up the nursery.

It was late afternoon by the time he opened the door, empty box in hand. Nick spent the next hour placing two boxes in the room and a toolbox to dismantle the crib, the rest of the hour spent staring at the room looking haunted. Rubbing at his forehead, feeling light-headed, he leaned against the doorframe.

The sound of the doorbell pulled him from his spot, wondering when it got dark as he shuffled barefooted to the front door. Opening it wearily, he was mutely surprised to see Sam towering at his doorstep. The smile faded from Sam's face into one of concern, taking a step closer. "Nick...what happened? You okay?" he asked softly and Nick licked his lips nervously. Sam turned his head, looking past Nick and seeing boxes. It was three weeks after they met did Nick explain what happened, but vaguely and briefly. Sam didn't bother trying to pry for more information, but he could guess what were in the boxes.

"Just...giving stuff away to Goodwill..." Nick finally spoke, voice rough and strained. "Still have...just...nursery left."

Sam moved forward, strong arms pulling him in tight and it took a minute before Nick gripped Sam in return. "Want me to do it?" Sam asked gently, large hand rubbing at Nick's back and the blond thought about saying no. That this was his thing but it hurt so much. So Nick nodded in silence. A headache began to form as he tried to think of what laid in that nursery and by the time Nick rubbed at his forehead for the second time that day, Sam was leading him to the couch. Setting him down, Sam left to head upstairs.

It was fifty minutes before Sam came down with boxes that were taped, leaving them by the front door. The Winchester told him to turn away and Nick blinked and did so, staring at his hands in his lap. It was midway through Nick realized Sam dismantled the crib and was carrying it out, hearing the door open. His blond head only turned up when a cool hand rested on his shoulder, seeing the doorway empty and vacant of boxes.

"Let's get out of the house today. I hear that movie Iron Man is showing again in that small cinema by the library. I wanna check it out, so let's go together."

_- August 2nd_

August second is the day Sam shares with him a dream. A prophecy, maybe. Nick never took Sam as the skeptic or the religious, but there is a surety in his eyes that Nick's not daring to question.

He speaks of not so much change but going back to what it used to be. Nick realized midway through the conversation that Sam wasn't talking about the economy or the environment. He was speaking of Revelations. Of baptisms in fire that well cleanse the earth and make it whole and pure. Nick sagged in his place on the couch in the younger male's couch, about to express that maybe this was a strange and surreal conversation that should happen over a beer (a.k.a. when he is drunk as hell).

But Sam starts talking about families never experiencing death. Of keeping loved ones close and being together. No diseases. No war. No pain. Just blissful harmony and the way Sam talks about family makes Nick ache. He wanted his family back but he felt so lost due to the tragedy. His family abandoned him, his friends were skittish around him, and Nick felt isolated. Sometimes it made Nick angry and other times it shoved him so deep in depression.

Nick mumbles that it sounds very nice but rather unrealistic, and Sam laughs, wide smile on his lips.

"I don't know, Nick. Maybe I just need you to make it all happen."

_- November 17th_

Sam introduces to him his two dogs that are as lively and goofy as Sam himself. They lope around outside in the backyard, barking at a passing butterfly before wrestling with each other. The Winchester is stretched out on the cold grass and Nick joined him a good ten minutes ago, finding his eyes always drifting to stare at the muscular frame.

Sam must have felt him staring because he opens his eyes and turns to his side, those hazel eyes boring into him. The brunette murmurs something about needing help to make hot chocolate, currently nippy outside. Nick gets up to follow Sam wordlessly, and it felt as if there was an unspoken agreement now between them. The blond is vaguely aware of it, but he's not sure if he's accepted it.

The taller male pulls out a tin can of hot chocolate mix, and both of them work together in pleasant silence. Nick doesn't pull away when fingers brush against his as they're handing each other items. Doesn't pull away when fingers move up his arm and stop on the side of his throat. Doesn't pull away when there are hips pressing against his, pinning him against the counter as Sam leans forward to let his mouth hover over his. Nick idly thought they were both the perfect height for this, one not too taller or too shorter than the other.

The blond moved his hand to slide across the hard plane of his clothed chest, eyes half-lidded as he drank in Sam's breath. So he kissed him. Wasn't so much a matter of sexuality, but a matter of trust. Nick trusted Sam wholeheartedly in a way that his family members could not even earn. The older male trusted Sam to take care of what he was giving him right now, and it was hilarious how some twenty-six year old held such power in his life like this.

The brunette surged forward, kissing him greedily. Sam was all teeth and a deep growl burned in Nick's stomach as he responded with equal vigor. Both spent the next thirty minutes exploring each other's mouths, hands roaming and sliding across bodies to memorize dips and curves from their fingerprints.

Sam finally drew back, rubbing a thumb across the older male's swollen lips, eyes such a livid shade of what looked like teal and forest-green. Nick swore there was something like light seeping through his pupils. "You're perfect for me, Nick," Sam breathed out earnestly, making the blond smile in warm appreciation at the comment. "You're all I need."

Nick responded by kissing the thumb on his lips before two dogs bounded into the kitchen from outside, barking in need for attention. Scrambling and scurrying around, tags wagging, they spun around and slipped through the dog door in wall. Both turned and moved over to find that it began to snow, both of the dogs snapping their jaws at the falling snowflakes. They laughed at the sight as an arm wrapped around Nick's waist, a mouth hovering over his ear.

"Stay the night? It looks cold outside."

Nick wasn't even sure 'no' was in his vocabulary anymore.

_- December 1st _

Bizarre things were occurring of late on the news, things that felt like an ugly mockery to reality or at least its foundations. Members of a church all going blind, a small town in Colorado killing each other in cold blood, surge of pests sweeping through the crops, and in Oregon it rained fire for three days.

Nick fiddled with the remote, not sure whether to turn the television off or keep on watching. Sam helped him make a decision when he promptly stood before him and the television, naked as the day he was born. Hair was tousled with sleep but eyes were sharp and alive. "Watching the end of days? On the couch? Something very morbid and completely American about that," Sam teased before walking forward when Nick beckoned for him.

"I'm just checking up on the weather. It may rain frogs so make sure you bring an umbrella," the blond teased back as Sam straddled his lap, silencing him with a deep kiss. Nick's face relaxed as he returned the kiss, hands settling on bare hips. "Ugh. Morning breath."

"And now he complains."

Both laughed at each other, Nick leaning forward to bite at Sam's bottom lip, giving an estranged sound when he feels fingers pulling him out through the slit of his boxers. Already he was half-hard and Sam began to lazily stroke him as Nick kissed him reverently. Sam was otherworldly to Nick, in a way miracles and blessings are. Nick was a humble being who didn't feel he deserved good things in his life, and so when they came like Sarah, the birth of his daughter, and Sam...he was always flabbergasted and in awe. They were holy relics and he treated each with all the love he could give them, and Sam was something he couldn't describe if someone asked him to.

Sam kept his mind away from rethinking the tragic event in his life. There was some odd calling that brought Nick walking up to Sam's doorstep. It was in his DNA to go after him and Sam happily let him in each and every time.

Sex was a nice bonus, but not something Nick focused on too acutely in the relationship. The day the two actually began to move aside from just sweet kisses in private and fingers curling around each other was when Nick had to stop by the church late November. It's been a long time since he stepped in one but the pastor had a gift to give him that was from the church. So Nick decided to bring Sam along, not sure he could enter the same church where they had the service for Sarah and his baby girl.

Sam lounged lazily in a pew as they waited for the pastor to come back with the gift as Nick hovered by the altar. Getting to his feet, the taller male moved to Nick and rested his chin on his shoulder. "You feelin' okay?" he asked with quiet concern.

"Just...feels weird. Bit surreal."

Sam wrapped his arms around him from behind and before he knew it Sam was palming him through his jeans. Nick knew he could shy away and tell him to wait till they're in the car, but he didn't. Something the blond has been noticing as of late. The things he would normally never do, he was now okay with doing. Nick was more willing to take risks and Nick couldn't be bothered to find that as a red flag that something was wrong. Groaning lowly when he felt his arousal press against his jeans, Sam moved his hand away to move on his knees before Nick. It was heavenly and so wrong all at once when Nick soon has his hands fisted into Sam's hair, hips snapping into Sam's mouth as he takes him in down his throat.

And it evolved after that. Nick could now usually pinpoint the moment the cogs start turning in Sam's skull, knowing that the chance of public indecency was rising. Nick was pretty sure once upon a time he would have looked down upon this. But Sam was toxic in all the wrong and right ways. He was a drug and if his drug wanted him to jump, he was going to ask, "How high?"

Lips pulled him out of his thoughts and when they pulled back for air, Sam looked down at him with a mischievous look.

"Mind elsewhere? Hurting my feelings, Nick. Or were you thinking of me?" Playful and sweet. Like a puppy that's nothing but a ball of fur, and even though it nips and bites at you, you can't help but love it nonetheless.

"Always thinking of you," Nick murmured against the skin of Sam's neck as he pulls Sam closer.

Sam simply smiles and runs a hand through Nick's hair.

- _January 23rd_

Some perceive domestic violence as the stereotypical husband beating on his wife. The whole macho role and feminism role of who is dominant. But stereotypes are always far from the truth. There are levels and charts, certain concoctions and mixes of what makes up domestic violence. But the main gist of it is power and control. How can the abuser instill power and control onto his or her victim?

Isolation came first, Sam taking advantage of the weak social support system Nick had and eradicating it for good. He would make small wistful comments that it was too bad that his family wasn't here or that the neighbors left early for the get-together. Small harmless little comments that made Nick realize that there was no point trying to reach out to others because he had Sam. Sam was all he needed and his entire life seemed to revolve around Sam's.

Coercion came in through their physical recreation with each other. Normally before he wouldn't do things such as sex in a bathroom stall to the front door of his home for the neighborhood to see. But Sam would shoot him that kicked puppy dog look with that suggestive little smile and Nick caved in so fast it was embarrassing. Than there was the underhand threat that Sam would leave him, and Nick remembered the feeling of being punched in the gut when Sam came over to his place to talk about a very successful young woman he met at work who was flirting with him. He listed out all of these wonderful qualities of her from her career to her looks and for the next week Nick went above and beyond to ensure that he was better than this woman.

The list went on and it remained always subtle, and if he ever got disturbed by it one day, Sam had a miraculous way of showing up with a distraction.

Sam was getting more possessive, but it didn't bother Nick at all. He was pleased to have the attention. But there was an almost feral and needy quality to the way they slept with each other now. It was all sweet and slow but the minute the blond groaned out words of affirmation and chanting _yesyesyesyesyesyesyes, _Sam was teeth and pounding hips. He groaned louder, fucked harder and gripped him tightly as if any minute Nick may just disappear from underneath him. Sam was filthy and violent with his mouth, something Nick would have never guessed with such a boyishly charming face like his, and the things that left his mouth made him seize and clamp down on Sam in a deliciously tight manner.

Than when they would finish, Sam would coo out loving words to him and curl up around him, kissing his neck until Nick fell asleep. Sam would murmur to the blond that Nick was his and his alone until light of day began to peak out.

_- February 9th _

Nick stopped by Sam's to drop off the jacket he left that had Sam's wallet tucked in one of the pockets. It was going to be just a quick little visit because he did have errands to run and it seemed Sam had guests. After all there was now a Chrysler in the driveway and it was such a harsh difference from the bright 1965 cherry Mustang beside it. Being let in, Sam pecked him on the cheek and encouraged him to stay a while despite Nick's gentle protests.

"I don't want to intrude."

"Nah, you're good. You should meet my friend, anyways. He's been taking care of me ever since I broke off with my family," Sam insisted and there was that puppy look, and Nick caved in.

Led into the living room, there sat a polished and well-dressed male in one of the armchairs, looking more like he belonged on Wall Street than on Sam's furniture. Haunting pale blue eyes turned up to Nick behind glasses, sun-kissed skin only making the color pop out in a way that makes Nick's skin crawl.

"Nick this is Rodger. Unlike me...Rodger is very ambitious. State senator of Colorado," Sam presented and this Rodger looked at Sam with an amused glint as if there was some awful joke behind the title and all. "The Mustang is actually his car and so I'm finally returning it to him."

Rodger got up and took Nick's hand in a firm handshake, and the hand was hot. The state senator smelled of blood, gun powder and fire and no one seemed to be phased by it. "Yes, hence the suit. I would have changed but I'm visiting and working in this lovely state for a week or two. Business and pleasure." The well-dressed male released his hand and the blond suddenly remembered what he saw on the news. Colorado. That was the town where everyone killed each other in cold blood. Nick kept quiet on the matter, instead smiling and nodding, fighting back the uncomfortable feeling of the senator staring at him like he was a prize to be won.

But a friend of Sam's was a friend of his, and he chugged through the next hour making small talk before finally excusing himself to finish his errands.

The next morning Nick watched blearily on television the news story of a teacher gunning down his students in the local middle school, claiming all of staff and students eyes that turned black.

_- March 10th _

Nick is the one who notices the bruises forming on Sam's back and that if anything, they are growing bigger. Sam huffs that nothing is wrong, but the blond demands Sam at least take it easy.

Sam goes to the doctor just to appease Nick and comes out of the office with a note advising him to go to the hospital for tests. Nick accompanies him for this one and the results leaves Nick pale and shaken. Sam's internal organs were beginning to fail and that blew Nick's mind, because Sam lived off of low calorie diets and jogs in the morning. Doctors shrugged and said genetics may play a factor, leaving Nick rightfully pissed and Sam silent on the car ride back.

So Nick began to take care of him, staying over the night and babying him, asking if he should call Sam's family. Sam snorted wryly at the suggestion and shook his head. He has not spoken to anyone in his family since they kicked him out when he was sixteen. Ten years of being by yourself and the way Sam described it, it made it sound as if it has been longer than just ten years. And maybe...the entire time Nick thought he was the one who was lonely and felt abandoned when actually Sam was the one.

Sam was getting worse as weeks went by, skin an ugly purple and yellow, and the skin was beginning to peel on his back. There were days he couldn't even get out of bed, so exhausted that he could sleep for days straight without moving from place, making Nick unbearably nervous. Nick went back to his drinking problem he developed after Sarah and his daughter died, and the depression came back in two-folds, leaving him feeling hollowed and bare.

And that's where he was today, lying on the bed with Sam in a white t-shirt and pajama pants, fingers carding through his hair. Intelligent eyes turned to the blond, a hand reaching out to skim his fingers across the clothed chest.

"Nick?"

"Yeah, Sam?"

"You should go home, you don't have to do this."

Nick glared and shook his head, "Are you kidding me? I'm staying here with you. I'm going to take care of you. I'm going to help you out. I can do this." It was a heavy promise and one Nick intended on keeping, because he be damned if he watched someone special in his life die before his eyes again.

Sam smiled slightly and nodded. "Good, Nick. I suppose I should show you something... To show my appreciation to you." Nick shook his head, already about to voice that it was unnecessary but Sam rose into a sitting position on the bed. Rustling was heard and the room was dark. Pitch black and it was after a while did he see...cut out shapes. Specks of light and twists of space and matter forming what Nick swore looked like wings. He was drunk. He was drunk. Pissed ass drunk. Nick gaped and stared, watching as they shifted and it was like looking at the night sky.

"You can touch them."

Nick remained still and there was a scream somewhere waiting to erupt. A wild sound in question to what the hell was going on was just ready to burst out, but Nick was mute. He could only stare and wonder how many beers he drunk today. It could not just be one because one beer doesn't make you see wings. After five achingly long minutes, Sam sitting patiently, Nick reached out to touch them and they were soft. Warm. Smelling of ozone and the coming of rain.

"Do you know...what my name is?" Nick frowned, not entirely sure what Sam was saying or asking, but still kept his fingers combing and moving through the feathers. "Samael. One of my names. Not very popularly used like the others such as Satan or Lucifer." Nick could not believe he was this roaring drunk, eyes turning to look at Sam who was quietly pursing his lips. "You don't believe me. You think I'm crazy?"

"I think I'm drunk, Satan. Very drunk."

Sam snorted and gave a soft smile, shaking his head. "So wings are not a good show of proof?"

Nick scooted closer to squint at the wings, smoothing down feathers and listening to a rumbling purr start in Sam's chest. "It's hard to just imagine that you're the devil. Expected horns not a kicked puppy dog look," Nick admitted, and this was just a hilariously strange conversation and he was going to wake up in his house by the bathroom floor regretting the amount of beer he drunk in a few hours. Just you wait and see.

"What if I show you my true form? Just a glimpse?"

"True form?"

It was Sam's turn to give him a look before shifting closer, hands reaching out to cup Nick's face. "Do you truly believe an angel looks like a human?" Sam had a point. If this wasn't some batshit drunk dream or whatever it may be. Fingers slipped until they rested on his temples and it was like looking in the sun after never seeing it for years. It was a nuclear bomb, where you watch the towering figure rise into the air before heat bombards you, rips your skin clean and purifies you in smoke and fire. His nerves ached before they went numb and the image he finally saw through the preliminary show made him weak and small. Sam - Lucifer - whatever he was, was beautiful. Was carved perfectly and molded in such a way it made Nick feel disgusted with himself. He felt so godforsaken monstrous and ugly in comparison to this. Nick wasn't aware he was crying until fingers were swiping his tears aside and the brilliant light faded into the darkness of the bedroom.

Nick trembled as he stared at Sam who cooed at him, stroking his hair lovingly. His eyes burned and occipital lobe was on the fritz. Sun spots of the image trailed before his vision, and it made his ribcage shake. It was only when Nick began to calm down did Sam finally speak.

"I am dying, Nick. This vessel cannot contain me and he's beginning to wear. Would you like me to be with you? Forever?"

Nick nodded mutely.

"If you say 'yes' to me I can do so. I can be with you, Nick. I will fix the wrongs done onto you...onto me. Why is it that a God has to take away the people we love? Why are you forced to watch your family stripped from you...me stripped from you..."

Nick shuddered and stared weakly at Sam. He didn't want Sam to die. He...he needed Sam. He couldn't bear to be by himself and he had no friends. Or at least friends who truly acted as the title implied. It was less about revenge but more about keeping the only person who cared for him and liked him, terrified of being by himself again. So perhaps this was just a drunk dream, a way of him trying to formulate some way he could beat the system and save something unable to be saved. Sam was dying so maybe this dream was how he coped with it. Making deals with devils and whatnot.

"I do love you, Nick. I always have. From the day you were born, you were mine and you will always be mine," Sam smiled and breathed out lovingly, and despite the deep bruising on his neck, Sam was beautiful. He had that smile that lit up the room and that damn puppy dog look when he wants something and here he was telling him that he loved him. It was nail on his coffin, Nick smiling in return because it was contagious. "So please, will you help me? Don't you love me, too?" The crushed look growing on Sam's face that there was a chance Nick felt impartial to him was pulling Nick apart, that fear of Sam leaving him blossoming once more. "You are my future, Nick. You are my beautiful, bright, and ambitious future and you can do so much good, Nick. Mothers were live. Daughters won't be taken from you. I'll be here. Always with you."

Nick was aware of how pathetic it was for him to be so desperate for affection and how changed of a man he became when his family passed away. But this was a nice dream where he may actually save someone he cares about, because don't we all?

"Yes. I'll help you."

Light seemed to burn his eyes out of his eye sockets, icy and cold as it hit his skin and before Nick could process that he needed to scream, it was all gone. Blue eyes stared passively at the body limp on the bed before rising to his feet, changing his clothes in silence before making his way out of the house. The dogs whined and kept their tails tucked between their legs when Nick passed, exiting through the front door to find a cherry red Mustang rumbling in the driveway.

War leaned against the door lazily, lips turning into a sly grin. "Looking good, boss," words came out teasing and crude out of the entity's mouth that thrived off of bloodshed and global conflicts. "Need a ride?" The Devil thought about it for a second before giving a nod, moving over to the passenger's side.

"Would you mind dropping me off at my brother's? We need to have a little chat."

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